Life's Lessons
by Labschiz
Summary: There are certain things in life that genius cannot teach you. One must learn these things through experience. A series of semirelated oneshots about Artemis' experiences at various stages of his life. Chap 3: Dangers of Eye Rolling [12LH: FatherSon]
1. Lesson Number One: Hugs and Kisses

**A/N: This is not just a single one-shot. Nope. It's a series of one-shots! Yes, that's right! I'm actually going to add more to this! Woohoo!**

**Well, these stories will all be about random things that happen to Artemis over the years at various stages of his life. This includes childhood, adolescence, adulthood, etc. Most will be humour, but some will be angsty, romance, or anything really. A lot of them will take place in Artemis' early childhood because I heart writing little!Arty. I might not be regularly updating, but that depends on if I get enough free time to write. Anyway, let's get on with it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl (gasp!), but Eoin Colfer does. You should go talk to him.

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**Life's Lessons**

**Lesson Number One: Hugs and Kisses**

-

Artemis Fowl the Second was a prodigy among prodigies. He was the shining hope of the Fowl line. He was the great descendant of Artemis Fowl the First and a mastermind in the making.

He was three years old.

Now, even at the age of three, this boy showed signs of being beyond his generation. Able to talk before he became one, count to one-hundred without using his fingers by two-and-a-half, Artemis was expected to be the intellectual equivalent of Mozart. No conclusive tests had yet been made but the two very proud parents of this exceptional child were sure that he was a little genius.

Not many three-year-olds were overly aware of their surroundings but Artemis, of course, was far from normal. His "Mummy" and "Da" were always asking him questions and giving him toys they said were for his "educational development". Artemis didn't really care what toys he played with but the constant quizzes were admittedly becoming a nuisance. How was he expected to play blocks in peace when Da kept asking him to spell something with them? If Da wanted to play with the blocks why didn't he just say so?

Being an exceptional child, Artemis often noticed things that others his age would never think about. One thing he noticed about his parents was the fact that they were always excited when he answered their questions correctly. Artemis figured that they were just really easy to please. Whenever he said that "5 plus 5 equals 10" or that grass was green, he was always readily rewarded with a cookie before lunch time or a big hug from Mummy.

It wasn't long before Artemis learned how to manipulate his Mummy into giving him more prizes by innocently reciting some math problem or something he read in one of his workbooks.

Most of the time Artemis welcomed those impromptu quizzes with open arms. No child in his right mind would turn down free cookies.

Other times, however, they were just annoying. It was only like this when his father was the one to interrogate him. They were the same questions with the same answers, except without the prize. What was the point of interrupting his valuable playtime if it didn't involve food or something equally as good?

Another thing Artemis noticed was how stiff his Da was. He never sang lullabies like his Mummy. He never gave him piggy-back rides in the garden like his Mummy. He didn't even play games with him like Butler sometimes did. The most he had seen his father do was to kiss him and his mother goodnight and to read to him sometimes from one of the big books in their library.

Artemis wondered why his Da was like that. Surely, sitting in his quiet study all day with nothing to do but read must be terribly boring. Getting hugs and playing all day was a lot more fun than all that. Artemis was thinking just this one day as he sat playing on the floor of his Da's study.

_Da should be more like Mummy,_ he mused.

A surprising thought struck him then. What if he didn't know how?

Looking up from his plastic abacus, Artemis gazed in wonder at his Da who was poring over a pile of papers scattered over the desk. A hand was brought up to his well-trimmed beard, his forehead wrinkled in thought. At the sight of his working father Artemis felt sure that he was the way he was because he didn't know how to be more fun like Mummy.

And if that was the case...

The boy set down his toys and nodded decisively. He would have to teach him.

"Da?"

Artemis Fowl Senior looked up from his paper work to meet the big blue eyes of his son. "Yes?"

Wearing a sly grin that looked anything but on his chubby face, Artemis walked around his father's desk and gripped the arm of his chair to get his attention properly. (He was too short to be seen from behind the desk.)

"What," he began in the best imitation of his Da's scholarly tone he could manage, "sound does the cow make?"

Da gave him a strange look and said nothing. The seconds ticked by in silence with Artemis the Son waiting patiently and Artemis the Da staring speechless at the former.

The boy was not surprised by his Da's hesitation. It was a particularly hard question that little Arty himself had once had difficulty answering.

Artemis gestured encouragingly. "What sound does the cow make?" he repeated, more slowly this time.

The expression on Da's face morphed from a blank stare of vague incredulity into a sour grimace. He looked as if he had tasted something particularly nasty, which Artemis took as being in deep concentration.

Unable to refuse his son's demanding gaze and to let the boy go uneducated—it wasn't often that Artemis put a question to his parents so randomly—the Fowl patriarch cleared his throat and muttered in as dignified a manner as he could muster...

"Moo."

Artemis beamed, proud of his Da for being so smart. "Correct!"

Da cleared his throat again, a reddish tint just noticeable on his stern face. "Yes. Well. I hope you learned something today, Artemis." He awkwardly nodded to his son and tried to turn back to his work, hoping that the little boy would do the same with his toys.

Unfortunately, Artemis had something else in mind. He jumped up onto his Da's lap and cheerfully repeated what Mummy said to him every time he got a question right, "You deserve a prize. Congratulations, Da!" Standing carefully on Da's lap, Artemis flung his little arms around Da's neck in a warm hug. He then proceeded to plant a wet, smacking kiss on his Da's cheek.

Oblivious to Artemis, Da had frozen up, horrified at the affectionate child hanging off his neck. He had thought that there was an unspoken agreement in their manor that Angeline would take care of the parental feelings, hugs, play-time, and such, not him. Never him. Artemis Fowl, the Nanny? Just the thought was disturbing.

Da plucked Artemis from his neck and held him by the armpits very carefully. With the caution of someone dealing with volatile chemicals, he set his son back on the floor. Artemis stared at his Da with that innocent little smile of his. This smile was returned with Da's very stern visage, which was turning an interesting shade of pink.

Da glared down at Artemis and said firmly, "Son, _never_ do that again. Never. Understood?" Artemis, smile now replaced with a pout of confusion, nodded slowly. "Good. And no dessert tonight," he added to make sure the point got through.

Artemis walked back to his toys in deep thought. He was now very, very confused and wasn't quite sure what had just happened. He sighed sadly when he remembered his punishment. Artemis picked up the toy abacus and glanced up at his father.

**And what have we learned today?**

_Don't hug Da._

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**A/N: Hate it? Love it? Both? Leave a review and make yourself heard! Forget voting, it's "Review OR Die!" (only Americans will understand this) Just kidding, but go ahead and review if you like. Feel free to give suggestions because goodness knows I need new ideas. ;)**

**-Much love, Lulu**

Last Edited: January 22, 2006


	2. Lesson Number Two: Problems with Santa

**Can you believe it? An update! Sorry about the delay, but I've got another chapter in the works now so expect it in a few days…or weeks.**

**This chapter wasn't written for Life's Lessons, actually. It's a (late) Christmas present for Diana over at Artemis Fowl Confidential. So, this fic is dedicated to her!**

**Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer has rights to the Artemis Fowl series and its characters.**

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"He still retained a childlike belief in magic, tempered by an adult determination to exploit it." -_Artemis Fowl_

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**Life's Lessons**

**Lesson Number Two: Problems with Santa**

**-**

"_Be a good little boy, Arty. If you're naughty, Santa will make sure you get coal for Christmas."_

Mother likely did not mean much by it as she said this to me in passing one winter night, but it was this statement and the subtle warning within that inspired my plan.

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It was the dawn of December and all of Ireland seemed to be putting on a final spurt of yuletide festivities before the main event on the 25th. Fowl Manor, my place of residence, had always been the prime example of "Christmas Spirit", decked fully in lights, frost, jingle bells, and "boughs of holly", as I believe the song went. Yes, every year was the same and every year we spent the holidays at home.

By "we" I mean, of course, Mother, Father, the Butlers, and myself. It was Mother's idea, really. She insisted that we all spend the Christmas season together as a _family_. I sometimes felt as though we were all just humoring her and her need to spread joy and peace to the entire household in the form of carols and round, glass ornaments. However, I admit that she was not the only one who enjoyed this time of year.

The Butlers in particular seemed almost, I'm afraid to say, _giddy_. Well—at least Juliet did. Butler (_my_ Butler) and the Major continued to be their stoic, professional selves regardless of all the jingles and tinkles of merriment surrounding them.

Although…there were times when I _did _hear a rare chuckle from Butler, especially when he was around his sister.

What Mother enjoyed about Christmas was just about everything: the caroling, the cooking, the snow, the shopping, the good will, the television specials, and, most especially, having the entire family together. For once.

Now what Father enjoyed about Christmas was…

…It is difficult to tell with him.

And myself? They say that the greatest gift of all is giving. I believe that the greatest gift of all is receiving.

Or, if that's not possible, _taking_ works just as well.

I do not consider myself greedy—I am just very grateful for my presents. In advance. On my fifth birthday earlier that year, I had received everything on my wish list and then some from my loving parents. Yes, it was a good year. In fact, by Christmas time I thought that I had nothing left to ask for. If not for Santa, I would have been content with a simple Christmas dinner and a story before bed time (and possibly a new laptop; one could never have too many).

This brings us back to my plan. Upon hearing my mother whisper her playful warning before tucking me in, I lay in bed thinking about the infamous Santa Claus and his annual trip around the globe. I did not know much about this so-called "Claus", but I had always expected an extra gift of him every Christmas morning. It was not until that very moment that I began to question this magical being as the years before had me plagued with the ignorance of youth. Last year—an eternity ago—I was four and naive so I behaved like a good little boy in anticipation of Santa's promise of my very own electronic chess set. _But not this year_, I thought sinisterly as I snuggled into my warm, newly fluffed pillows. _Oh no, not this year._

Some weeks later on the day before the day before Christmas, I called Butler and Juliet to meet me in the briefing room.

Juliet, a firecracker at the age of nine, walked in carrying a plate of Christmas tree-shaped cookies, merrily humming some carol. I strode over to her, but as my hand neared the plate, the sugar cookies were snatched away from me.

"Artemis!" Juliet's eyes narrowed as she scolded me. It was easy for her to do this for she towered over me by about one foot and fifteen centimeters (but who's counting?). "I made these myself, so if you want some you can go on down to the kitchens and bake yourself up a batch."

I stared at her coldly. She was being insubordinate. "Juliet," I said menacingly. "You are being insubordinate."

She looked like she was going to reply but Butler chose that moment to step in. "Juliet," he said warningly. And that was all she needed. With a pout and a grumble, she grudgingly gave me a cookie. And a napkin because I requested it.

"So, Artemis," she said, "What are we all doing crowded together in your room?"

I quashed the urge to roll my eyes. I never roll my eyes because I am too mature for that. So I frowned and said, "I've told you before to call this the '_briefing room'._"

And after another little squabble with Juliet over her inability to follow orders and my so-called "stupid requests", I paced the room and began to explain my plan. "I brought you here because I need your help. I not only found a way to travel at amazing speeds faster than anyone ever went, but I know how to sneak into places without being seen or heard." I had their attention then. Butler's gaze was on me, one eyebrow quizzically raised. Juliet was lying on my bed and staring at me with her mouth half open. I smirked and continued, "It's simple. The answer, friends, lies in…" I paused for dramatic effect.

"Magic."

I watched for their reactions and saw that Juliet was looking at me blankly—her inferior mind was probably trying to work itself around the concept—and Butler had an unreadable expression on his face. Amazement or amusement? No doubt it was the former. I often dazzled others with my genius.

I continued before they could say anything. "I do not exactly know _how_ to do the things I've just mentioned, but I know how we can find out. And when we do, we can be even richer! But first, we have to abduct the man who knows all the secrets. He's the key to all the magic. This man," I confided, "is called Santa Claus."

And then Juliet started giggling. I looked at her with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. She was _giggling_ of all things. I had just revealed the most crucial point in my plan and she was _giggling_! Honestly.

I glared, "Just what is so funny?"

She rolled over on my bed so she was on her back, clutching her stomach. She was consumed in bouts of uncontrollable laughter now, practically guffawing into my bed sheets.

Juliet gasped, "Tha…That was a good one, Artemis!" Her laughter died down to a few chuckles. "You really had me going there for a moment." She snorted, "Santa Claus…Geeze…"

I calmly cleared my throat, "If you're done, I'll keep explaining the plan."

She looked at me, smile slowly shrinking. Her eyes widened when she saw that I wasn't joking. "B-but, Artemis, you can't be serious. I mean, this is just silly-"

"Let Artemis finish his briefing, Juliet," Butler, my most loyal comrade, cut in. He nodded to me, the slightest twinkle in his eyes. "Go ahead, Artemis. We're listening."

I smiled appreciatively. At least _someone_ understood the importance of my work. "Thank you. Alright, I think the only time we can catch Santa is on Christmas Eve, after everyone's gone to bed and he's delivering his toys. We know he's going to come here before everyone wakes up in the morning so we can wait for him there, capture him, and make him tell us how to use his magic. And maybe get some extra toys, too.

"Butler," I ordered. "I want you to set up cameras on the roof in case he lands his sleigh there. Your job is watching the videos."

"Understood, sir."

I turned to the girl in front of me. "And Juliet, you have to patrol the halls."

She sat up in protest. "And stay up on Christmas night? No wa-"

"That's an order!" I crossed my arms and looked up at her sternly. She glanced uncertainly at her brother but relented and sat back down.

"What will you be doing, Master Artemis?" Butler inquired.

I smirked. "I'll be hiding by the Christmas tree, waiting for him."

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That night I sat down and wrote a letter to Santa.

_Dearest Santa,_

_Hello, I am Artemis Fowl the Second. You should know that I have been a very, very good boy this year and should get a present just as good as I am. What I want this year is not something wrapped in a box. I want magic. I know you have it and I want it. Give it to me._

_Artemis Fowl the Second_

_P.S. I also want a new laptop computer. A black one._

I held the paper away from me and looked it over. Satisfied, I gave the letter to Butler to send. Now the plan was in motion.

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A night of delicious Christmas dinner and stories told by the fireplace almost made me forget about the plan. But remember I did and, after being stuffed with more pie than I should have been able to hold and then tucked in by both Mother and Father, I stealthily snuck out of my room. I was unsurprised to find Butler waiting for me outside my door.

He glanced down at me out of the corner of his eye. "Ready?" he whispered.

I nodded to him and we proceeded down the hallway. It was dark and quiet, so unlike the Manor I was used to. Some part of me knew this was a good thing because it meant everyone was asleep, but another part made me inch just a little bit closer to my giant caretaker. I accidentally stepped on his foot and almost immediately felt his big, grown-up hand close around mine. I smiled and clutched onto him as we made our way through the dark halls.

We made it to the staircase and I saw a light getting closer and closer to us. Juliet came into view, flashlight in hand. By the small light in her face, I could see that she was both sleepy and annoyed. "Is this _really_ necessary?" she whispered.

"Yes," I replied defiantly. "This is very important work to science and the whole w-wooorld." At this point I was trying to stifle a yawn, covering my mouth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto Butler's two fingers (which was _all_ I could hold).

She clucked her tongue. "_Fine_. If you need me, I'll be taking a stroll in the East Wing." With a toss of her braid, she stalked off, taking the light with her.

When she left, Butler and I continued down the stairs and to the family room where our tree was. I realized that soon Butler would have to leave me to go to the surveillance room and it made my stomach drop a little. Alone in the dark for hours? Maybe it wasn't worth it after all…

We opened the door to the family room and I felt a comfortable warmth burst in my chest. There, in the middle of the room, was our Christmas tree in all its glory, cut down by the Major and Butler himself. It was lit up more brightly than I could have ever imagined, and the lights, as the whites and the reds and the greens and the blues danced around the entire room and illuminated the center with a strange, golden glow, seemed positively _magical._

I started when I realized that Butler and I were already standing at the tree, so captivated I was by its brightness that I did not notice we had moved. I looked up at Butler and found that my guardian was smiling at me softly.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I looked at my hand still clinging to Butler's. Then I looked at the tree in front of us. I smiled and let go. "Yes, I am."

Butler smiled again and nodded. "Alright then. You know where I'll be. I can see you so just signal if you need any help and I'll be down right away." He walked to the open door. "Keep a keen eye out now, Artemis."

I nodded and, when he had finally left me, began to look for a proper hiding place. I inspected my surroundings. Behind the couch? No, too obvious. Underneath the coffee table? No, too small.

I walked backwards and bumped into something prickly and heard a tinkle. Spinning around, I saw that it was just our tree. I then stared at it, inspiration hitting me. It was a big enough tree, so maybe…

I crawled underneath it and…yes! I found that there was plenty of space for someone my size to sit beneath without being seen. It was perfect and the last place anyone would think to look, least of all Santa. So I crawled on my hands and knees until I reached the base where the trunk was held up by the metal stand. Kneeling experimentally, I found that if I bent my waist a little in that position I could keep my head from touching the lower branches. Sneakily, I pulled some of the larger presents around me so that I created a make-shift fortress around myself. There was no way Santa could have found me then.

I shifted my weight so that I sat back on my ankles. I sneezed. There were needles and dust everywhere. So I cleared some of the needles from the area I was sitting in and dusted myself off, admiring my handiwork. I looked up and gasped.

I was completely surrounded in lights.

It was like being among the stars. I lay down on my back and stared up at the starry spectacle. I imagined that this was what it must feel like to see magic. All lights and colours and warm feelings. It must feel great. Wonderful.

The last thing I remembered was watching the dancing lights.

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I awoke with a start, sitting straight up and bumping my head into a tree branch for my troubles. I looked around in confusion, suddenly remembering the previous night's events and the plan. The plan!

Frantic, I scrambled out of my hiding place under the tree and looked around. The first lights of dawn were filtering through the windows in yellow-pink streams. Disappointment filled me. I hadn't caught Santa. Hadn't even come close.

I sighed dejectedly and sat down on the spot. It was then that I noticed a present I hadn't seen the night before. It was a smallish box wrapped in red with a green ribbon. There was no name on it, only a note. I detached the note and read:

_Dear Artemis,_

_I am sorry that you did not get what you wanted for Christmas. This was all I could give you that matched your request. I agree that magic cannot be wrapped in a box, but I believe that this will help you to find some magic within yourself. Think of this as the "extra present" you wanted in addition to the laptop._

_Santa Claus_

Mouth agape, I looked around me and, sure enough, there was another laptop-sized present behind me with the same wrapping as the first. In a state of awe, I grabbed the smallerone and tore open the wrapping. Revealedwas a white box slightly bigger than my hand with the word "MAGIC" written in neat script on the top. Holding my breath, I lifted the lid.

Inside was a dark green candle the shape of a Christmas tree.

I had expected something like magic powder or a special amulet or something a bit more impressive than a simple _candle_. I knew that I should have been feeling disappointed but, for some reason, the small thing made me feel like laughing.

And laugh I did. I sat there next to our tree on Christmas morning, laughing because, for no reason at all, I felt a little happier.

And finally looking at the last part Santa's note, I smirked.

_P.S. It was a nice try, Artemis. Perhaps next time._

I learned then that Santa was a force to be reckoned with.

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**A/N: Eh, not one of my best, but it was fun to write. Merry belated Christmas to all and to all a good night! Or good morning!**

**Reviews are appreciated as always, BUT what I would LOVE is if you would support the Orion Awards, which is for Artemis Fowl fanfiction. This is the first year for the Orions and we need as many nominations as possible! Time is running out and nomination closes in a few days, so please find some great AF fics from 2001-2005 and nominate! Right now!**

**-Sankyuu, Lulu**


	3. Lesson Number Three: Eye Rolling

**New chapter! This is humour (rejoice!) and it almost borders on crack, but I think it's at least a little sane. Maybe.**

**This is my first fic for the Twelve Labours of Hercules challenge. (See Criminality for details -too lazy to explain-) "Arty and Timmy's Father-Son Relationship"**

**Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer has the rights to the _Artemis Fowl_ series and anything originating from it.**

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**Life's Lessons**

**Lesson Number Three: The Dangers of Eye-Rolling**

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Artemis Fowl Senior (also known as Timmy)—head of the Fowl family line, genius in his own right, and businessman extraordinaire—was concerned.

Four-year-olds were very impressionable and for this reason Timmy had always been extra sensitive about how he conducted himself around Arty. He had to set a perfect example for his son because, after all, he _was_ the primary role-model.

Or so he had hoped.

Butlers were generally well-mannered and controlled in almost every situation. If Arty had been associating with any _other_ Butler, Timmy would not have cared less.

It was just bad luck that the youngest Butler at the moment had to be a spunky little girl.

This little girl in question had recently turned eight and was starting to grow what was unmistakably an attitude, becoming more prone to answering back or tossing her hair nowadays. It was getting on the elder Butlers' nerves. The Major had confided to Timmy once that he missed the old days when Juliet was peppy and sweet and (most of all) perfectly obedient. Now it was all, "why" this and "how come" that and sometimes even the petulant, "Do I _have_ to?" This, according to the Major, was why only male Butlers were forced to become soldiers.

Timmy, whose trust in the Butler family was absolute, had no problem with letting Arty and Juliet play together. Butler (Domovoi) had encouraged it. Angeline thought it was positively precious. Besides, the two children had quickly grown fond of each other. It had seemed like a good idea.

That is until, some years later when Arty was four, Timmy caught his son doing something completely inappropriate and obscene.

Arty had rolled his eyes.

In his rage and panic, Timmy did not register exactly what his son was rolling his eyes at or that he and the rest of his family were in the middle of dinner, but even if he did he wouldn't have cared. He, Artemis Fowl the First, would _not_ stand for that type of behavior in his household! So without a word of warning, Timmy leapt from his seat at the dinner table, scooped Arty from his chair, and stormed out of the dining room with his son tucked between his armpit (effectively cutting off Angeline's story about her afternoon trip to the city). Halfway into the entrance hall Timmy realized his mistake and strode calmly back to the room from whence he came.

"Where are my manners? I apologize, Angeline, but I must have a word with our son for a moment. Please excuse us."

And with that (and Arty now squirming under his arm), Timmy left once again for the entrance hall. On the outside he was the calm, calculating Fowl he had always been known to be, but internally he was fuming. His mind spun with restrained torrents of rage and he barely registered the undignified protests from his wayward, misguided son.

His son. _His_ son. The progeny of the Fowl dynasty. His very own flesh and blood. To think that he could do something so vulgar was just...just...utterly shameful! Timmy took in a deep breath to calm his thoughts and fell into deep meditation, as he was sometimes prone to do when faced with a difficult problem. He tried to think rationally. Arty was a child so he could still be saved from his generation's _barbaric_—he mentally spat in disgust—ways. The difficulty lay in trying to get through to him. The boy was a genius (a toddler-genius, but a genius nonetheless) and very little affected him lately. Something in Timmy wilted at the thought that his boy was drifting farther and farther from his sphere of influence, but he stomped down on the feeling quickly. Nothing in a Fowl ever _wilted_.

Before his thoughts could drift to the dying plants in the balcony of his study (as they tended to do ever since Angeline brought that damnable garden into his work space, and although he detested it the fragrance _did_ give his study a pleasant—oh heavens, was he becoming senile?), he was struck with a not-so-rare Moment of Brilliance. Like all Fowls, he would use the opposition's strengths to work in his favor. Arty's childish genius would be his downfall.

Nodding to himself with a newfound determination, Timmy carefully set his son on the polished marble floor before him. Arty, for his part, had been a very patient little boy and only sulked slightly after being suspended in the crook of his father's arm for the past five to six minutes while the older had stood there, completely caught up in his complicated Fowl Thought Process.

"Father, what-"

Arty was silenced by Timmy's stern look. Not many men with the name Timmy could command respect and fear with a squint of the eye, but this was no ordinary man. "Artemis," he began, trusting that his voice sounded as grave as possible. "What you have just done...is a very, very serious offense and you must _never_ do it again."

Timmy smirked internally at the startled look on his son's face. He knew his boy better than most thought and he knew that the thing Arty hated most was being confused or left out of the loop. Brows forming small wrinkles in his still-smooth forehead, Arty asked, "I'm sorry, Father, but what are you talking about?"

Something inside Timmy wilted and he, again, squashed it. He stared at his son in disappointment. No tact whatsoever. "At the dinner table, son. I. Saw. You. _Rolling your eyes_." He said it with as much scorn as he could muster, which was a lot considering he was a Fowl.

This time Arty looked truly surprised, big blue eyes widening and speaking volumes of his emotions. Timmy made a mental note to start teaching the boy to be more discreet about his feelings.

"But, Father, what is wrong with that?"

"Artemis," the patriarch growled, staring down his nose at the confused child. "Not only is 'that' a despicable act, looked down upon by men of our status, but it is also something that puts you in danger."

The boy's mouth formed an "o". "Danger?"

Timmy stared. So innocent. So pure. So naïve.

All the easier to manipulate.

"Yes, son. Eye-rolling is forbidden for a reason." Before Arty had a chance to point out that no, actually, eye-rolling has never been forbidden, Timmy ploughed on. "It puts the eye-roller in risk of something even medicine cannot fix, something that can only be remedied by expensive, painful surgery."

Arty stared at him with a mix of wonder and fear. Oh, this was too easy. "In risk of what, Father?" Timmy almost couldn't hold back the triumphant smirk as he took his cue and delivered the final blow.

"Cataracts."

Arty blinked in slow recognition. Timmy watched in sick amusement as his son's features shifted from confusion to understanding to disgust to blatant fear. "But...I...how?"

Timmy went into Da Lecturing Mode. "Constant upwards movements of the eye prevent the lens from staying moist and clear. It gets jarred and eventually the proteins in your eye will break up and form a cloudy film, effectively hindering vision. Many eye-rollers have fallen victim to cataracts and often become blind. It's no surprise, really, since the risks are little-known to most people."

When he finished, Timmy was satisfied by the look of barely concealed horror on Arty's face. The child's limited knowledge on the subject and willingness to learn, joined with his youthful ignorance, made certain that Arty would never roll his eyes again. Timmy mentally gave himself a congratulatory pat on the back.

"Now do you understand the seriousness of this?"

"Y-yes, Father."

"And you'll never roll your eyes again?"

"Of course, Father."

Timmy nodded gravely, but he was beaming inside. "Good boy, Artemis."

That night Timmy would sleep soundly.

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The next morning…

"Juliet! You can't do that, you could get cataracts!"

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**A/N: Short, but sweet. Kind of.**

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**Ta ta!**

**-Lulu**


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